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“Yet, lovely flower, I find in thee
“And charms in thy simplicity,
–oTHE WIOLET AND THE PAN.SY. SHEPHERD, if near thy artless breast The God of fond desires repair; Implore him for a gentle guest, Implore him with unwearied prayer. Should beauty's soul-enchanting smile, Love-kindling looks, and features gay,
Should these thy wandering eye beguile, And steal thy wareless heart away;
That heart shall soon with sorrow swell,
No gentle virtue's genial store.
Far from his hive one summer-day
Borne on his tender wings away,
The morm, the noon, in play he passed, But when the shades of evening came,
No parent brought the due repast, And faintness seized his little frame.
By nature urged, by instinct led,
And violets all the bank enwrought.
Of kindred race, but brighter dies,
That borrowed from indulgent skies
The tints that streamed with glossy gold,
The stranger wondered to behold,
Not fonder haste the lover speeds,
When o'er the hardly-bending meads